Pugnacious and drunk
by bloodymary2
Summary: GWTW Sunny Funny Ficathon entry. One night, she forgot to lock the door and he forgot to hold his liquor.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own the book, nor the movie _'Gone with the Wind'._ Suing is a waste of time and is counterproductive; I'm just a fan that is making no profit. :D

**A/N:** This is my entry GTWT Sunny Funny Ficathon, from 2009. I'm kinda late posting this here, but I forgot. First published gwtw fanfic. So be gentle, but don't forsake honesty. I can take it!

**

* * *

**

PUGNACIOUS and DRUNK

_By bloodymary2_

* * *

Scarlett was trying to sleep.

Trying being the operative word. The bed she was presently occupying, her specially made bed, was large - ridiculously so - and easily swallowed up her small, delicate frame. Not only did that make her feel little, the bed managed to remind her of the unpleasant reality of her own loneliness. There was too much space and more pillows than she could ever hope to use.

_How long had it been?_

The proud woman knew, though. Down to the day. And no pretending could erase the fact that ninety one days had passed since her bed had become drafty and unwelcoming. Three months since she had made that inarticulate request. Her present state could be blamed on none other than herself. In her defense – not that she would speak of such things with anyone but herself -, it had sounded like a good idea at the time. She truly hadn't wanted more children.

How was she to know she would miss his presence so much?

A long, pitiful sigh escaped between her parted lips. Irritated at her own weakness, Scarlett huffed, hitting the crisp white sheets in frustration. Sleep had been hard to come by ever since that fateful day and thinking about it didn't help matters any. She forcibly pushed it out of her mind. There was nothing to be done, anyway; she would never ask him back into her bedroom.

She could just imagine the self satisfied smirk on Rhett's face in response to her begging. And what if he said no?

Scarlett sat up in bed slowly, glancing around for something else to fill her thought with. It was too dark, though, and all she could see were shadows.

Suddenly, a muffled thud came from somewhere outside her door. Her reaction was instantaneous. The young woman sat up straighter in bed, her head turning quickly in the direction of the closed door and her hands clenched into fists. She seemed like the epitome of soldier ready for battle - a reflex gained from those horrible days in Atlanta when the air was never quiet nor safe. But the truth was that Scarlett was scared.

No one should be wandering around the halls at this late time of night.

Carefully, she listened for any new sounds, wondering if maybe Bonnie had woken and cried out without her realizing it. She heard nothing else, until a hand descended heavily onto her doorknob, making a low sound that managed to be so loud it startled her. Then, the realization; she had forgotten to lock the door! Regretfully, she bit her lower lip, knowing it was too late to do anything about it. The knob was turning and the door was opening and a big shadow was entering her room.

"Scarlett... oh, Scarlett?" Her name was stretched out, like an owner calling a frightened dog. The voice was unmistakably Rhett Butler's. And he sounded positively drunk. For a moment, she debated whether she should feel irritated at his condescending tone.

Irritation, however, turned quickly into fear; she couldn't ever remember a time Rhett had gotten as drunk as he sounded at that moment.

Scarlett watched the big shadow - for he was nothing more than a dark silhouette barely visible by the poor lighting coming from the window, where a half moon shone - as it approached. With trembling fingers, she searched for the candle she always kept by her bedside and willed her hands to still enough to light it. The weak flames did wonders to illuminate the room, though it still left some eerie shadows dancing about.

She breathed in slowly and turned back towards the door, somewhat afraid to look. Her eyes raised up and Scarlett gasped...

... before bursting into uncontrolable laughter.

For the life of her, she couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so hard her sides ached. And how could she help herself when, standing a few feet away from the bed, was Rhett Butler in only his breeches with a stupid, drunken grin on his face. He was so hilariously ridiculous, with his body swaying from side to side as waves on the ocean and his left shoulder drooped, that he look as if his balance had been tilted sideways.

"Now, now, dears..." His right hand came up, index finger pointing in her general direction. "It isn't nice for you all to gather together and laugh at a gentleman while he is only in his underthings!" It was obvious by his unfocused gaze that he was seeing more than one woman on her bed.

Scarlett, for her part, only managed to laugh harder. She had seen him drink on various occasions, but never had she known possible for him to get this drunk! His voice was somewhat affected, his words spoken slowly - he was taking great care with the pronunciation of each one; careful, it seemed, not to slur. Not only that, his tone was more suited in the mouth of an old maid filled with demure, than in the lips of a grown, liberal cad. It was too funny. There was even a moment, when Scarlett felt difficulty breathing due to all the laughing she was doing.

"Oh, Rhett..." She tried to control herself, though she failed to wipe the grin completely off her lips. "What happened to holding your liquor?" It would have been sarcastic, had her eyes not shone with such mirth.

"I am not drunk, my pet." She offered an incredulous raised eyebrow at his attempt at a dignified reply to her accusation.

Feeling challenged at that, Rhett straightened - or tried to at least, since his left shoulder remained drooped and his body kept swaying - and raised his chin. Under normal circumstances, that would have looked very distinguished, but at that particular moment, it looked downright silly. Scarlett suppressed the urge to fall into laughing once again.

"Despite the many glasses of whiskey your dear husband has consumed, he still holds himself in perfect composure. He could face a line of dueling men and hit them all with one shot!" She snorted at the image those words evoked. "And! Unlike other people who are drunk and shall not be named," he paused and it looked like he needed to think of his next words. "He... he has no problem walking on a straight line..."

To demonstrate it, he took two steps forward, finally reaching the bed. The fact that his balance wavered and he was forced to reach out a hand to steady himself on the fluffy mattress, however, took the validity out of his argument. Rhett seemed unfazed, though, and continued on with his speech.

"If Rhett was drunk, I wouldn't be able to do this." Unaware of the confusion in the sentence and with a look of childish, and adorable, concentration, her husband tried touching the tip of his nose with his index finger; he touched his cheek. Repeatedly. Then he frowned. "Well, maybe Rhett Butler is a little drunk." First, he looked resigned. A mischivious glint was soon shining in his eyes, though. He looked at Scarlett, having a hard time focusing on her face precisely and whispered, "But just a little."

Scarlett smile at that, but the curve of her lips soon faltered when she became aware of his close proximity; Rhett hadn't stepped foot in her room since that horrible fight. And now, he was so close she could smell the whiskey on him, could see the hairs on his bare chest just an arm reach away. And such proximity was making the hairs at the back of her neck rise.

"Rhett?" Her own voice was quiet - a whisper -, while her eyes searched his in hesitation. "Wha-what are you doing here?"

"My dear Scarlett," he looked like a school teacher chastening an unruly student, all superior and condescending. "Rhett Butler lives here."

She shook her head, feeling a bit of the tension dissipate; he was so drunk he couldn't possibly be aware of his surroundings. He even kept referring to himself in the third person! Scarlett opened her mouth to tell him so, when it finally occurred to her that here stood Rhett, completely vulnerable - in all the senses of the word - and completely at her mercy.

A Cheshire grin flourished upon her lips and lighted her green eyes.

If Rhett had been more conscious, he would have recognized that look of triumph and would have been instantly on alert. But he wasn't aware, far from it, and that left him completely defenseless. Scarlett wondered how much she could manipulate him.

"Rhett?" she pouted and batted her eye lashes.

"Hum?" Her husband had apparently lost interest in their conversation and was glancing around the room with apparent curiosity. Nothing seemed to have caught his eye, though, because he soon returned his dark, unfocused eyes to her. Rhett made a face of exaggerated confusion, "is something wrong with your eyes, my pet?"

Abandoning pretences – he was imune to her wiles, even falling down drunk -, Scarlett decided to be direct.

"Where were you before you came home, Rhett?" Scarlett kept her voice low and still spoke sweetly, not to disturb the haze surrounding him.

"Me?" He seemed confused. And even dizzier than he had been a few minutes before; Rhett's body swayed dangerously back and forth and then finally collapsed on top of the soft mattress. For a long moment, he laid there, face down, in the exact same position he had fallen into.

Scarlett bit her bottom lip to suppress the urge to laugh again. "Rhett?" He mumbled something she didn't understand. "Rhett, turn around."

She didn't wait for him to comply with her request and tried rolling him over; no luck. He was way too heavy and didn't even budge. Frustrated, she huffed and pushed her hair out of her face. Maybe he wasn't as malleable as she had thought. What a disappointing thought.

"Rhett, please. You'll... you'll suffocate!" She sounded more exasperated than worried

Her worry at his position may have been mild, but grew, when she saw that his body was shaking. He was having a fit! Or not. Rhett slowly rolled over, bringing himself closer to Scarlett's sitting frame and revealing his mirth filled face. Rhett Butler was laughing at her!

"Rhett Butler, even drunk you are a cad!" She angrily turned away and considered leaving her bed to escape him.

He immediately grew somber, which, in his present inebriated state, looked more adorable than serious. How could a grown men with whisks on his face and glassy eyes from too much liquor could ever look adorable was beyond her, but adorable he looked. Turning his face turned to hers, Rhett brought his hand up and around her waist. "Rhett Butler is not drunk."

"Yes, he is. I mean, you are!" She breathed in, trying to control her flaring temper. "You are drunk, Rhett Butler and I bet you are making fun of me while at it!"

"Ok." He hugged her waist, bringing his face to rest on her stomach. "Rhett Butler is drunk."

His quick compliance was suspicious, but having his cheek caressing her belly, clad only in a thin nightgown, and his warm arms holding her gently, left Scarlett feeling a little bewildered. Sure, she had missed his presence in her bedroom, missed sleeping in his warm embrace and being able to talk to him about anything - he had been her best friend! But, what was the strange feeling pooling at the pit of her stomach, she wondered.

What was the yearning in her chest?

"Rhett Butler is drunk, but not mean. He doesn't want to make fun of you." His breath was doing something funny to her skin as he spoke. "He missed you."

"He did?" Scarlett smiled, satisfied with that piece of information. Without realizing it, her fingers started combing his unruly hair. "Is Rhett not happy with the other women?" She immediately regretted the bitter tone she inadvertently used; she certainly wasn't jealous.

Of course, she wasn't.

The man in question pulled back just enough for Scarlett to see his face as he vigorously shook his head in the negative. "Rhett tried, but it's just not the same." He made a show if glancing around, like he was making sure no one could hear him, and then leaned even closer to her. "Don't tell him I told you, though."

"What is?" Scarlett felt a little breathless, though she failed to understand why. "I mean, what isn't the same?"

Rhett, for his part, acquired a pensive look as he slowly sat up. His legs were folded next to her thighs, too close, his semi-naked body radiating heat that seemed to pull her in. Scarlett felt like she should pull back and put some space between them; they were too dangerously close. She didn't though. Scarlett stayed exactly as she was, watching intensively as Rhett breathed some mere inches from her face.

"This..." Was his answer, milliseconds before his lips kissed her soft cheek. Scarlett felt a series of goosebumps rise up her spine and wondered at her reaction.

_What was happening? _

She didn't know, but Rhett's wet lips were trailing slow kisses all over her face and all she could think of was that she, oddly, didn't want him to stop. God's Nightgown, he hadn't kissed lher with such intensity since he proposed at Frank's funeral. "Rhett?"

He ignored her - or maybe didn't even hear his name -, busy as he was caressing the space behind her left ear with the tip of his nose before planting a soft kiss upon the sensitive skin. It wasn't long before thoughts of her supremacy over her husband were forgotten as Scarlett fell amid a haze of feelings; she felt drunk. So, when Rhett's larger body leaned forward against her own, pressing her down onto the soft sheets, Scarlett complied, not even one hundred percent aware of his actions and her reactions.

Until he stopped kissing her skin and touching her body and remained absolutely still... on top of her. Scarlett's green eyes, misty from the inebriation of a few moments before, slowly cleared and she found herself lying on her back, with her heavy husband's body draped almost uncomfortably over her and his face buried in her neck. He was still breathing - she could feel it warm on her shoulder -, so he wasn't dead. But it seemed his excessive consumption of alcohol had managed to finally knock him out.

Scarlett felt a sudden urge to kill him. How dare he!

One side, then the other and Scarlett tried to first roll him off her, without success. Then, she attempted to get out from under him, which was also met with disappointing failure. Rhett Butler was way too big and heavy for her frail frame to move. When escape seemed impossible and her temper could be controlled no more, Scarlett started hitting his shoulder and arm in frustration.

"Rhett Butler, you are a skunk and I hate you!"

"Now, now, Scarlett, dear." His voice, low, was right next to her ear and she would have jumped in surprise had he not been pressing her down with his weight. "Hate is such a strong word that I am sure cannot truly define the way you feel about me. Not only that, hate is a strong, yet fleeting feeling that hardily lasts long within a person who is not old and bitter - which you, are not."

He shifted a bit, using his bent elbows to lift his body and alleviate her a little of his weight. Their faces were inches apart, while their breaths mingled. Breathing a little easier, Scarlett saw this as a perfect opportunity to escape his hold - she so despised being at his mercy. Unfortunately, his arms worked as a sort of restraint and her ability to leave was as low as they had been before.

"Hate, however, when fierce and ever constant, can hide other feelings we may not want to feel or may not want to acknowledge we might be inclined to feel." Though eloquent, Rhett Butler was undeniably inebriated and that meant his speech was, inevitably, affected. Like earlier, he spoke slowly, each word carefully enunciated and punctuated by poutty lips that slurred every other word.

Instead of finding it amusing, though, as she had when he had first entered her room, Scarlett found it too much like all the other times Rhett had lectured her using that tone of superiority. And she hated it! Hated how it made her feel small and inadequate. Hated it so much that she was sure the hatred she felt held no other hidden meaning than the obvious.

"Rhett Butler, I do hate you! And I don't want you in my room. Get off me and leave, right this instant!" Scarlett trashed and hit his chest in anger.

Her loud, hateful words, however, didn't manage to even budge him. His answer, when it came, was spoken quietly and calmly, as if he had all the time in the world at his disposal. "Teach not thy lip such scorn, for it was made for kissing, lady, not for such contempt." The allusion he made, quite cleverly for a man who had had one too many, was completely lost on Scarlett, who only felt irritated at his excessive need to talk.

Wh_y did he have to be an eloquent drunk?_

Most just sang stupid songs, before passing out.

But no, not Rhett Butler. No, Rhett liked to make speeches and give life lessons and use her as a cushion. He was slowly, yet steadily falling onto her again - his arms too weak at his state to hold him up, no doubt - and she was afraid he would really pass out on top of her this time. Anger didn't seem to be doing the trick, so Scarlett decided upon a different tactic.

She breathed in deeply and then sighed dramatically.

"Rhett, please. I can't breathe with you on top of me." She made sure to sound as helpless as possible.

Unfortunately for Scarlett's plan, Rhett Butler was drunk. He was eloquently drunk, not only with his words but with his actions - he had started kissing her neck once more and damn him if her brain didn't start feeling all muddled again -, but he was nonetheless drunk and somewhat disconnected from reality. And as desperately as Scarlett wanted to hate him for his words and actions and pinning her down, she found the feeling fading away. She almost liked him better like this: inebriated and loving.

A tight feeling pulled at her lower stomach; something she couldn't explain.

"Rhett?" He bit her earlobe and she shuddered. "Rhett? What are you doing?"

"Rhett is being pugnacious."

"What?" Her delicate brow furrowed and she tried to see if she could remember that word ever being used in her presence before. "What does it mean?"

Rhett was once again looking right at her, this time with a lopsided grin on his full lips. She would never admit it out loud, but her body missed his ministrations. And he was so very close that their noses touched. She could feel his warm breath and she could see every single shade of brown hidden in his eyes...

_Why was he looking at her like that?_

"Well, my pet. Rhett might have made fun of your ignorance, but I shall not." Scarlett's frown deepened. Speaking in the third person since coming into her room had been odd, but referring to himself as a completely different person was just creepy.

"You are Rhett." She said matter of factly. An affirmation he ignored.

Scarlett huffed at his stubbornness even while inebriated and tried to break free once more.

"Pugnacious..." He dropped a bit more weight upon her, to make her stop moving. "... comes from the Latin word _pugnax._ It can mean tough and callous or aggressive, but above all, it means ready and eager to fight. And Rhett Butler is tired of giving in to stupid Ashley without a fight."

And then he proceeded showing her just what he meant by fight with his lips, his hands and every single inch of her soon naked body. Scarlett could scarcely produce a proper thought under his single-minded attention, much less think of a reason to protest.

He had never touched her quite like this before.

And sure, Rhett Butler was drunk. But he was also eloquently drunk, lovingly and pugnaciously drunk and Scarlett found him, at that moment, completely irresistible.

* * *

My prompt was provided by **_SKYEBUGS_** and was:

_"Rhett Butler was drunk. He was eloquently drunk, lovingly and pugnaciously drunk."_

There were no POV requirements and all that was asked was that the story take place any time before Bonnie's death. The sentence came, originally, from Sinclair Lewis, and the man that was lovingly drunk was actually Elmer Gantry.

I changed the sentence slightly to fit my purposes.


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER:** in the first chapter...

**A/N: **Okay, first attempt at smut. I've read it aplenty. I've written scenes that lead to it, but never the deed exactly. I liked the end result, though, and hope you like it too. More follows this chapter, though I'm still not sure how much.

* * *

**PUGNACIOUS and DRUNK 2**

_By bloodymary2_

* * *

Warm breath hit her semi parted lips a second before Rhett's mouth claimed hers. Though the pressure and passion imparted on that kiss spoke of dominance, it also carried a silent request for acceptance. It reminded her of the breathtaking one he had stolen on Miss Pitty's parlor the day he proposed and briefly, Scarlett wondered why he had failed to kiss her like that since. It wasn't long before his tongue pushed past the confines of his mouth and touched the sensitive skin of her lips, sending with it a shiver up her spine. She sighed, allowing her eyes to close.

_What was happening to her?_

His warm tongue paid incredible attention to the inner curves of her lips, never quite entering her mouth. The pressure was light, the rush seeming to have left Rhett altogether. In his breath, Scarlett could smell and taste the liquor he had consumed and far from being repulsed by it, she found herself feeling increasingly intoxicated. His tongue finally moved to her teeth, licking it front, then back, before searching out her tongue. With gentleness, Rhett played with the still muscle, urging her to respond; she didn't.

Though her body could not deny the pleasure surging through it at her husband's ministrations, the instinctive fear remained. Enjoyable as her past encounters with Rhett had been, especially when compared to her past experiences with Charles and Frank, she couldn't rightly say she missed that part of their marital bed. No, unexplainable feelings of frustration and dissatisfaction had always followed Rhett's release.

Scarlett didn't want to go there again.

Rhett, apparently sensing her hesitation, left her mouth to explore the skin of her jaw. Nipping and licking, he travelled all the way to her ear, where he traced every line. Then, he kissed the back of her earlobe, allowing his teeth to graze the wet skin left behind. His nose briefly caressed the same spot, before continuing his trail down her neck. A strange sound, like a moan, escaped Scarlett's throat, while her eyes popped open.

"Rhett?"

He didn't respond, choosing instead to use his mouth to pull the neckline of her nightgown lower, exposing the mounds of her breasts. He kissed the skin there languidly, his hot breath leaving goosebumps in its wake. Scarlett knew what came after that and a shudder of anticipation shook her body lightly.

That scared her.

"Rhett? Maybe you should go to your room and wait for the drunkenness to…" Words and thoughts fled completely from her grasp when his mouth enclosed around her left nipple through the fabric of her gown. Involuntarily, her hands, which had been lying by her sides, fisted around the sheets of the bed. Bites and kisses and licks and soon the cotton was see-through and damp and Scarlett was shivering.

Rhett's hands finally came to play. His weight was transferred to his upper body and his thighs, leaving deft fingers free to roam. Moreover, it released Scarlett from the prison of his arms, giving her more freedom to move. She remained motionless, though; all thoughts of escape left somewhere along with her thought capabilities. She could only look at Rhett's hazy expression with one of her own.

With a yank, he ripped her nightgown in the middle, exposing her chest completely and making her yelp in surprise. Scarlett felt exposed and didn't like it one bit. She wished for it to be over soon. Her displeasure was soon forgotten, however, when his mouth returned to its previous activity, sans obstacles this time and with the aid of his rough hands. Almost without realizing it, she found herself moaning and shivering and arching her back, her body completely malleable in his heated care.

Pressure built in her lower stomach, a familiar sensation that spread to the space between her legs, making her want things she couldn't name and leaving her breathless for more, though what more was she had never discovered. A breathless whisper left her parted lips.

"Rhett?"

He was still silent as he followed the path between the valley of her breasts and her quivering bellybutton, his hands still playing with her strangely sensitive peeks. For a moment, her right hand left the sheets, hovering over the dark locks of hair visible from her position. Quickly, she returned them to grasp the already wrinkled fabric beneath her, a curse escaping her lips. What did she think she was doing? She was supposed to lie still and let him take the lead. Her head fell backwards in frustration, while Rhett remained none the wiser to her turmoil.

He was much too busy elsewhere.

Scarlett gasped as his hands found her knees, bending her legs around him and placing him right between them. His fingers were strongly gripping her thighs, before Scarlett could think to protest. That was the least of her worries, though. His mouth didn't stop their descent at her bellybutton like all the other times she had found herself at his mercy. His lips went further down, scandalously burying themselves in the hair between her legs.

_Lord in Heaven, what…_

Hot breath found a very sensitive mound Scarlett didn't even know she possessed, making her shivers from before seem mild. Her eyes closed involuntarily and her lips parted in pleasure, more moans escaping them. He was kissing her down there the same way he kissed her lips and the pressure in her lower stomach increased to never before felt force.

She didn't know he could do that!

_Oh…_

Briefly, the fear that what he was doing to her was something her mother had never even thought of allowing done to her own body, passed through her brain. Scarlett thought about asking him to stop, thought about crying bloody murder, but in the end, all she did was part her legs a bit more, giving him more access to her sensitive skin. Nothing this blissful could be bad, she reasoned.

Rhett's tongue entered her cave, while his thumb resumed the torture on her secret mound and her body betrayed her as it started to trash about. "Please, Rhett, please…" She knew not what she was begging for, it was all strangely unfamiliar, and Scarlett had a hard time believing anything else could come after this amazing pleasure coursing through her veins. But her body seemed to know something she didn't and she found herself begging unashamedly.

_More, more, more…_

Rhett's right hand left her mound and before she knew it, Scarlett felt his thick finger replacing his tongue within her. His tongue, now unoccupied, resumed work on her mound. In and out, the finger went, before being replaced by another and then another. Her inner walls were being forced apart in a most pleasurable way.

The pressure between her legs grew and shivers now overtook her sweat soaked body.

"Rhett…" Her hold of the already wrinkled sheets tightened.

Something was building, something was coming and Scarlett would have begged for it to overtake her, could she bring herself to speak. Nothing but moans escaped her lips, though. Especially when teeth grazed her mound, followed by a slick tongue and hot breath.

_Please, please, please…_

What could possibly be more than this?

It was only when Rhett bit her mound at the same time a forth finger found its way within her that Scarlett finally discovered why she had always been left unsatisfied before. Waves of indescribable pleasure exploded from her center and spread throughout her entire body, making her shake almost violently.

Surely it was a sin to feel this way. Only Scarlett could not bring herself to care.

_No, not when…_

Another wave crashed, surely the result of Rhett's continued attention to her forbidden place and thought fled her once more. It all became so intense that her body grew heavy and tingly and Scarlett lost consciousness, if only for a moment.

Rhett rose from his position down her body and met her parted and swollen lips with his own in a soft and sweet kiss.

"Scarlett?"

She couldn't quite speak yet and who could blame her. A soft question left her, though, spoken so softly Rhett might not have heard hadn't he been so close. "What was that?"

"Le petit mort, my love."

He said nothing more, though clearly he was far from being done with her.

With sure hands, he clasped her wrists and brought them together over her head. His chest came to rest on top of hers again, but this time met naked skin. Scarlett's sensitive peeks touched the hairs on his chest and she shivered again. Her body was too heavy, too satisfied to tense up, as it normally did, when the tip of Rhett's swollen member teased the entrance to her cave. Pressing his body onto hers, he drove himself within her completely.

She gasped and then panted, trying to catch her breath.

He was big - she knew that already -, but he seemed to fit inside so perfectly that Scarlett wondered why she had failed to notice it before. Her wondering lasted little, though, as Rhett drove in and out of her repeatedly.

While normally, she would, at this moment, concentrate on the patterns on the ceiling, praying for it all to be over, Scarlett couldn't help but relish in the way their bodies were touching, her eyes involuntarily closed. She could feel his skin as it slided in and out of her cave, could feel his hot breath on her shoulder, could feel the weight of his body. His skin was sweaty, like hers and she felt so small under him and so very overwhelmed.

In and out, a steady rythym and Scarlett found herself matching his every move.

She didn't have to think about it, could not actually form a rational thought, she just moved and panted and gripped the fingers that gripped her own.

One of Rhett's hand left the grasp, the other more than enough to hold Scarlett's delicate hands in place, and moved sensuously down her arm, over the side of her breast, through the skin of her waist and wrapped itself around her hip. It didn't stay there for long. Down it went to her thigh, where it gripped flesh tightly, until it reached her knee.

He pulled it up, making her leg bend, and brought it to rest on his shoulder.

_Pant._

_Moan._

The new position should be awkward and uncomfortable, but it was neither. There was something different about the way his manhood was entering her in this position that hit just the spot and made her already pressured core ache more intensively. And she so desperately wanted it to.

With the same enthusiasm she attacked food when hungry, Scarlett willed the pleasure to exploded once again within her; nothing less would satisfy her appetite. She swallowed hard and arched her body against Rhett's, willing her husband to push harder and faster so she could find her release her 'petit mort', whatever that meant.

Rhett wasn't complying, though; he kept his rhythm.

Impatient, Scarlett pulled one of her hands free from his hold and used it to pull him by the neck, while whispering in his ear. "… more, more, more… God, Rhett, please!"

His face came up to meet hers and the glint of satisfaction that shone in his eyes would have irritated her, had she not more pressing matters to consider. With noses touching and breaths mingling, Rhett increased his dominance of her, eliciting moans of agreement.

The pleasure grew.

And something… something changed.

Scarlett couldn't rightly say what, didn't know how to explain, but something was different. It was like Rhett was touching deeper inside her, like the whole world disappeared and all that was left was them and this perfect moment.

Her body started shuddering, waves of pleasure crashing all around her, when she felt Rhett's release within her. They were shaking as one the same way they had moved as one and Scarlett held on tighter to him, afraid he might disappear. Rhett rolled away from her then and her gripped allowed her body to follow his and soon Scarlett found herself cuddling to his side, completely content.

It wasn't long before sleep claimed them both, though it was certainly not light out when they awoke again to resume their earlier activities. Scarlett was more than a passive participant the following times.

And no complaints were heard from Rhett.


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER:** in the first chapter...

**A/N: **Oh, the famous morning after... :P This chapter may be subjet to change before the next (and last) comes along. Please let me know what you think, no matter how much you liked it or how much you thought it was crap. I can take it! :D

**

* * *

**

**PUGNACIOUS and DRUNK 3**

By bloodymary2

* * *

Scarlett felt her cheeks burning, a blush surely rising up her neck to color her face, before her eyes had even opened.

Just the memory of the night before... The places Rhett had dared to kiss and the way his large and rough hands had touched her skin and the closeness of their sweaty, naked bodies had been so pleasurable they could only be sinful. And she hadn`t even voiced the smallest of protests! Quite the contrary, in fact.

Oh, the shame.

_No._

She would not be thinking of such things. They were better left for later.

_Much__, much later._

With a bit of dread and a lot of caution, she cracked one eye open, then the other. There was not much to be seen, however; her face was buried in the nook of something warm and comfortable and a bit ticklish. And not even Scarlett, dense and simple-minded, could overlook the fact that she was draped over Rhett Butler like a shameless rag doll, her naked body touching his in places she couldn`t even properly name. Places she now felt more acutely than she had ever before, sore as they were.

She opened her mouth to breathe in deeply and then hesitated, eyes going wide.

Waking her husband up and having to face exactly what the night before had entailed was not high on her to do list. Actually, it wasn`t even on the list! Surely, Rhett would find a way to twist it in a way that would make it entirely her fault, when he had been the one to enter her bedroom drunk as a skunk. No, she would not be made a fool of.

Decision made, Scarlett concentrated on taking regular breaths and on Rhett`s immobility. Considering his deep breathing - he was snoring rather loudly - and his completely relaxed stance, she thought it safe to attempt to extricate herself from his embrace.

Not that she would put it past him to pretend to be asleep, but it was a possibility she preferred not to contemplate.

With more care than she had ever employed on any of her movements, even during her county belle days, Scarlett pulled her hand away from his hairy chest, untangled her leg from around his - ignoring what exactly her thigh had been touching seconds before - and then slowly rolled away from her husband`s slumbering form. Before even considering getting up from the soft mattress, she paused to make sure Rhett was still making the same noises as before.

He did not move, nor did he stop snoring.

Relief lasted her all the way out the bed and into her changing room. Picking a dress at random - who could think of colors and patterns and details when Rhett could wake up any moment! -, Scarlett cleaned herself up and got dressed. It had been so long since she had laced herself up without assistance that she could scarcely remember it, but that hardly mattered, when she could still do it fine by herself. In record time, she was tiptoeing around the bed towards the door.

_But, wait…_

Rhett wasn`t snoring anymore, though.

Filled with trepidation, that gripped her heart and made it almost skip a beat, she chanced a peek over her shoulder. Her tensed muscles relaxed and an involuntary smile flourished over her lips at the sight that greeted her. Far from being awake, Rhett had rolled over in his sleep and hugged the nearest thing to him, which turned out to be one of her many pillows. The change of position must have prevented him from making noise while breathing; he didn't look anywhere near awake. Actually, her big, powerful husband seemed to be snuggling adorably with her fluffy pillow, while inhaling its scent.

Her scent.

The smile she had been sporting turned into a smirk of satisfaction. Though not usually contemplative, Scarlett felt confused, because it wasn`t the power she could yield over him with that bit of information that made her feel so satiated, but the thought that he might miss her arms as much as she did his at that mom...

_Scarlett, stop!_

Eyes wide at her own wayward thoughts, Scarlett shook her head. She would not entertain such ridiculous notions.

Her, missing Rhett. It was beyond ridiculous.

Had Scarlett been armed with a vaster vocabulary, she would have probably used the word _preposterous_. She was, after all, in love with another man and shouldn't have had time, nor inclination, to entertain such thoughts about a man so different from Ashley. Shouldn't being the operative word, of course. Scarlett was, however, not inclined towards self analysis and pushed all thoughts and emotions to the back of her mind for a later date.

_Maybe._

Swiftly, she left her bedroom, closing the door carefully behind her. For a brief moment, she hesitated, wondering what her next step should be; surely it was too early to leave the house. Scarlett worried her lower lip as her gaze swept the hall. Her assumption on the time was proven wrong, when her green eyes landed on the grandfather clock sitting near the staircase.

It was past midday already!

Surprise was replaced by puzzlement. The heavy curtains covering the wide windows of her room hadn't allowed much light in and she hadn't contemplated opening them, less the clarity disturb Rhett's slumber. But midday? She felt so tired; it was hard for her to believe it. The worn-out feeling of her sore limbs only served to confirm her suspicion that rest had been flitting. The idea that maybe she really hadn`t slept that much - occupied as she had been with other activities she refused to think about - didn`t really cross her mind.

She didn't allow it to.

Breathing in deeply, Scarlett continued down the hall, away from Rhett.

After a quick check in on the nursery - the older children were up and about and Bonnie had just been fed and put to her midday nap by Mammy herself -, Scarlett left the suddenly uninviting mansion. For a house so big, she felt sure the walls had been closing in on her. It was only when she sat comfortably down in her carriage that she gave a destination any thought. It was unsurprising that the first place that came to mind were the lumber mills.

The ones Ashley ran, of course.

The thought of fair headed Ashley made her feel instantly happier, as it had a tendency to do in the past. However, the heavy burden of things she insisted on repressing and of memories she simply couldn`t allow herself to remember, tempting as they were, prevented her from achieving real weightlessness. It was something she wasn't used to; just the thought of her beloved had been enough to lift her spirits in the past.

All would be heavenly, though, when she saw him. She was sure of it.

Determined, Scarlett put the coach into motion.

------

The feeling of waking in a strange environment, no real memories of getting there, was nothing new to Rhett Butler and didn't warrant reason for panic.

What made his stomach lurch and his heart constrict, though, was not the sense that this was not his room or where he had intended to end up the night before. No, the panic arose when his nose caught wind of the sweet scent of roses and verbena; a familiar smell if there ever was one.

_Scarlett._

Quickly, he shot up in bed, eyes surveying his surroundings with quiet efficiency. He hadn't been mistaken, then. He was in her room, a bedroom he had once claimed as his. But, no. Not anymore. Swallowing with some difficulty due to a dry throat, Rhett became aware of three most important things. One, he was alone. Two, he was as free of clothing as the day he had been born. And three, he was sporting a head splitting ache between both temporal lobes.

Now, hangovers were not really something he was unfamiliar with. On the contrary, they were practically an everyday occurrence. Waking up naked and temporarily amnesiac was also not something he hadn't done before. But never on his wife's bed, especially not since the dreadful day she had declared their marital relations a thing of the past.

No, no, no, no…

This couldn't be happening.

Rhett rubbed the last wisps of sleep and drunkenness out of his eyes and contemplated the empty, though thoroughly messy bed linens around him. He could have wasted time fooling himself into believing his present location and the state of disarray of the sheets did not mean what it so painfully seemed to mean. That would go against the way Rhett faced to world, though.

Exuding a calm he was far from feeling, he rose, allowing the sheet to fall away from his body. Priorities, he thought. First, a bath, because even he could smell the rancid booze scent he was exuding. Then, clothes. And finally, of not more important, find Scarlett.

She was surely cursing him and all his ancestors for the night before.

Had he ever been that drunk?

Had he been forceful? Had her cries for him to stop been ignored? Could she possibly hate him more now than she had before? He could vaguely recall whips of memories, of kissing her skin and taking her, but it was too fragmented. Rhett breathed in deeply, trying to push dread and regret away from his thoughts. If only he hadn't drank into oblivion. If only he hadn't allowed his anger to drive him to it, an irrational anger. If only he hadn't seen Ashley Wilkes enter Belle's whorehouse, intent to disappear upstairs with the first willing body.

If only, if only, if only…

Focus, Butler.

There was no sense in wondering about a past he could not change.

------------

Dressed and smelling infinitely better, though his headache persisted, Rhett left his room and went to the nursery. The clock announced the time as being past noon and Bonnie would soon be waking from her nap. The kids would also be there. He had to kill time until Scarlett chose to return from wherever it was she had decided to run off to after waking up.

Maybe it was wishful thinking or denial, but Rhett didn't, for a moment, think she might not have come back.

The sun was already setting in the horizon when the mistress of the house finally came through the heavy oak front door, looking hesitant. Rhett watched her enter the parlor, where he sat, with Bonnie lying against his chest, fast asleep. He said nothing, waiting for her to notice his presence. And he knew the minute she did; her spine shot straight and her eyes were quickly cast away.

Sigh.

He shouldn't have expected any less.

"Come sit by me, Mrs. Butler." There was no room in his voice for interpretation; he was giving an order. Now, she could have chosen to ignore it – had done so in the past -, but that gave her the perfect excuse make conversation and move beyond the happenings of the night before.

She should have guessed he wouldn't let it go so easily.

"Everything well at the mills?"

Her eyes flew upwards, surprise shinning in the green of its orbs. How did he know… But wasn't that what she did most days? Scarlett chastened herself for making a big deal out of such a simple question and returned to her fixed contemplation of the Persian rug. "Yes. I had to make some revisions to the books, but otherwise, yes."

"And Mr. Wilkes? Is he well? I saw him just yesterday."

"I guess so, yes."

A long silence followed, neither party willing to bring up the one thing they so desperately wanted to talk about. Scarlett kept her gaze down, while Rhett's eyes never wavered from her downcast face. He could feel the fear growing within him with each second she shied away from him; obviously his actions had been even worse than even he had first thought.

Pained by her rejection, he sighed and excused himself to put Bonnie in her cradle. Rhett didn't look back, as he left the room, shoulders slightly hunched.

Had he spared a glance to the woman he left behind, he would have seen her tense shoulders shudder with a deep sigh and her hand squeeze the soft fabric of her gown. When her eyes finally raised, fear tinted her expressive green orbs. Not for the things they had done the night before – things she dared not think about -, but fear that her husband would reject her the same way she had him a few weeks before.

A lone tear ran down her pale cheek.

That night, Scarlett didn't come down to eat, nor did she have dinner brought to her room, as she would have normally done. It was unlike her to skip a meal.

But suddenly, she just wasn't hungry anymore.

-----------

Her wrapper was dragging against the dark carpet, as Scarlett descended the long staircase. Her steps were hesitant; more than once she stopped, drawing in deep breaths. There were very few instances in her life when she fainted. This might turn out to be one of them.

Stop it, Scarlett O'Hara!

She was not some ninny who was too afraid of her own shadow. And she certainly was not scared of Rhett Butler! She had faced a burning Atlanta and Yankees and hunger for longer days than she could even count. No, she was not afraid. Gathering her inner strength, she finished descending the stairs and made her way to the study, where she knew her husband awaited.

Hopefully.

She paused at the threshold, her eyes meeting Rhett's smothering gaze. A shiver ran up her spine. His face was impassive, though. And she hated it, hated that she could never really know what he was thinking, while he so easily read her like an open book.

"Come in, pet. You know I don't mind you nightly drinking habits." His voice was taunting, as usual, and that angered her. Couldn't he be nice, once in a while?

She ignored it, though, and walked calmly towards the intricately carved cruet to pour herself a glass of brandy. Eyes fixed on Rhett, she took a small sip. She wanted to drink more, maybe even down the entire glass at once, but she had to keep her mind clear.

With the glass in one hand and the cruet in the other, she walked towards Rhett and topped his almost empty glass. Scarlett could see a glimmer of surprise in his face and smiled in triumph; not so nonchalant now, Mr. Butler.

Her small victory was short lived, however. Rhett's penetrating eyes gazed up and down her body, noting the long slits on her nightgown that so easily exposed her legs and the half opened wrapper exposing her deep cleavage. His deliberate perusal left her self-conscious and a little bit breathless.

So much for having the upper hand.

When she refilled his glass again, without having taken a single sip of her own drink, he smirked. "Are you trying to get me drunk, my pet?"

Scarlett froze, unsure of how to proceed and silently cursing her failed plan.

-----------------

Relief.

Then surprise.

And lust.

Scarlett had always been an open book, her emotions and intentions always shinning through her cat like green eyes. And this moment was no different. There was no fear there, no repulsion. On the contrary, if her revealing nightgown was anything to go by.

"Are you trying to get me drunk, my pet?"

He had expected her to look indignant or perhaps even angry - she had a temper on her, after all, one he rather liked to flare up once in a while – but, instead, she seemed guilty and unsure. Would she storm away? Ignore his barb?

She did neither, only uttered a single, simple word.

"Yes."

"What?" Her reply caught him completely off guard. The glass which had been halfway to his lips faltered and his neutral face betrayed him. It was only for a millisecond and Scarlett couldn't really be sure of his reaction, so fast did it slip back into that careless casual air he so often presented. Still.

Eyes narrowed, he studied her face. "Pray tell, why, Mrs. Butler."

Her courage and blunt honesty seemed to fail her than; she looked sideways and remained silent. It was more than enough time for Rhett to regain completely his composure.

"Come on, pet, it is a little late for that demure act you're so fond of. And useless, too. I know you too well, Scarlett." He paused, observing "Now, I wonder… What could you possible gain from getting me, shall we say, properly inebriated?"

And because he couldn't help it, "Didn't you get enough of it last night?"

Scarlett blushed a deep crimson and lowered her head even further. Rhett couldn't let her withdraw like that; not after her blunt and suggestive answer. There was only so much a man could take, before being forced into action.

Faster than the blink of an eye, Rhett was off his seat and standing in front of his reluctant wife. When Scarlett saw his leather clad feet appear in her line of sight, she jumped back, gaze inadvertently landing on Rhett's penetrating eyes.

She couldn't breathe.

It was like Rhett's tall and broad frame occupied far too much space, leaving no room for the precious air her lungs seemed to lack. His eyes bore into hers and she felt naked under his intense scrutiny; Scarlett had always hated how well he could read her every thought just by doing that.

"W… well, it's getting quite late, Rhett, and I'm rather tired. I didn't get much sleep last nigh…" She trailed off as the meaning of her words registered; it had not been her intention to revisit the topic of the night before. Rhett limited himself to smiling maliciously.

"Tired, huh?" He leaned even closer, if that was even remotely possible. His breath wasn't as heavily laced with alcohol as the last time their faces had been so close. "A good tired, or a bad tired, pet?"

"I… I…" She didn't know what words to say, or even what she would want to convey had she been more agile with them.

"Is it possible, Scarlett, that you enjoyed my kisses more than you wanted? Is it even remotely possible that my touch brought you more pleasure than honorable Ashley could ever dream of bringing a woman?" Scarlett's hazy eyes turned sharp, her mouth twisting in anger.

Incensed with his words, she pulled her body backwards, using her own weight to free herself from Rhett's sturdy hold, while her wrists hit his chest. She hated that he couldn't go a whole five minutes without being mean.

"You are a cad, Rhett Butler, and I don't ever want to enter my bedroom ever again!" Her attempts to free herself failed; she wouldn't be able to leave for as long as Rhett held her so firmly. "At least Ashley is a gentleman and makes me feel happy!"

It wasn't true, of course, none of it. She missed Rhett's arms during the dark hours of the night and not even the few hours she saw Ashley every other day could fill the void within her. Unfortunately, when her temper flared, her mind tended to cloud over and Scarlett lost control of the words coming out of her mouth. More than once, regret came immediately thereafter. But to admit she was wrong?

_Never!_

Not even when the consequences proved to be so heart breaking.

Scarlett choked down a sob and renewed her attempts to break free. "Let me go, you brute!"

Rhett's eyes shone with anger. No one could infuriate him like his wife could. Unable to control himself any longer, he shook her shoulders, squeezing the flesh beneath his fingers a little more forcefully than he normally would.

"Is it that I can't do anything right!" He saw fear enter her brilliant green eyes, but couldn't bring himself to stop. "What?! You ran like a scared kitten this morning from your horrendous cad of a husband and went to see your precious Ashley. Did you feel better, huh?" Another shake; Scarlett held back a sob. "It made you feel brave, did it not, my pet?" He was calming down. "Brave enough to try getting me drunk again."

Once last shake and Rhett released her arms, making her stumble backwards. He looked tired and defeated.

"Why would you do that, Scarlett. Everything else, I more than expected, but why would you want to get me drunk again?" His panting turned into deep breaths. "What do you want?"

Scarlett still didn't have the words. And even if she knew just what to say, how could she tell Rhett without appearing weak and vulnerable? He already had so much power over her, already knew her so well. She couldn't let him win like that.

Silly emotions, anyway, making her want more than she already had.

"N… nothing." Her husband turned away, disappointed.

Instead of feeling relieved to see herself free of his questioning, Scarlett felt sad and empty. And so very tired. A hand rose of its own accord and reached for Rhett's broad back, willing him to turn or trying to bring him closer. She didn't know which. With a sigh, her heavy arm dropped.

Scarlett didn't like this horrible tension and all these conflicting emotions.

_Why couldn't things go back to the way they were in New Orleans?_

She had been happy then, she was sure.

_Hadn't she?_


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER:** in the first chapter...

**A/N: **Sorry for the delay. The last chapter got a little stuck in the second part. :D This is for **poohlvr571**, who remained patient and asked me so nicely not to forget this story.

**Review!**

**

* * *

**

PUGNACIOUS and DRUNK 4

By bloodymary2

* * *

The silence stretched between them heavily.

Rhett's gaze was unsettling, as he observed every twist and frown appearing on her face. He had always been able to read his wife so clearly, had known how she thought even. But, what he was seeing at that moment couldn't possibly be true. It was not longing he saw reflect in her brilliant green eyes. Couldn't be.

Scarlett, for her part, tried to maintain her eyes focused away from Rhett's penetrating observation. She wanted nothing more than to flee this room and this conversation, even knowing without a doubt that she would leave it the loser. A tentative step backwards, a glance over her shoulder.

So much easier to just leave.

Her husband was having none of that, thought. With two powerful strides, he stood between Scarlett and the door. In a whirl, she turned, catching her freedom duly blocked by his broad shoulders. There was something in his gaze she had seen before, watching and probing. It left her feeling unsettled, like a mouse being stalked by a cat, ready to pounce at any minute.

She swallowed hard.

Few things in life could come as close to scaring her like Rhett could.

"You are mistaken, if you think you will be leaving this room before answering my question… with the truth." When the menacing words produced nothing but more nervous shifting, Rhett stepped even closer to Scarlett and, again, grabbed her upper arms in a strong grip. "What…Do… You… Want?"

Scarlett couldn't understand why he seemed so adamant in getting an answer to that particular question. He had always been only mildly interested in her, never allowing her to believe, for even a second, that his feeling ran any deeper than the fondness one held for a possession. It shouldn't matter, what she wanted.

Except, he was demanding an answer and Scarlett couldn't bring her throat to stop clenching long enough to do so.

_I want... _

She didn't know what she wanted. How could she possibly quantify the strange yearning in the pit of her belly? Or put into words the disappointment seeing Ashley earlier had brought. The world was upside down and she knew not how make it right side up again.

So she wondered… Minutes before, Scarlett had tried getting Rhett drunk, hoping to repeat the night before without having to ask for it. She may not have known what she wanted in the long run, but Scarlett was sure she had finally come to an answer to her husband's question.

Right at that moment, she wanted him to kiss her.

Pride too strong to admit defeat, she did the next best thing. She kissed him.

First feeling to course through his veins at the wonderful touch of her lips, voluntarily, upon his, was excitement. The thrill of knowing Scarlett was trying to seduce him - not to gain something in return, but simply because she wanted him to take her in his arm – was a powerful drug. He knew her too well, though, and was unable to avoid the suspicion from rising to the surface. This could easily have be a way to manipulate him into succumbing to her bidding.

Rhett broke the kiss and pulled slightly back, his eyes narrowing.

"What happened at the mill today?"

"I saw checked the accounting books and the workers." She whispered, not daring to inform him that his tight grip on her arms hurt.

"And saw Ashley…" She swallowed hard, bit her lip and looked away.

She didn't answer, but then again, she didn't need to. Rhett's face darkened and Scarlett could see he was beyond angry. She knew he would be, though she failed to understand exactly why.

"And what, your precious Ashley wasn't man enough to please you, so you had to come back to the brute of a husband you have." His taunt was piercing and Scarlett found herself with the inexplicable desire to cry. She didn't, though.

Rhett shook her shoulders, eliciting an involuntary cry to escape her lips. "I won't have you jumping from his bed into mine, Scarlett. Do you understand?" Another shake. "I'll kill your precious Ashley before I let that happen."

And just like that, Scarlett could no longer control the tears wishing to burst. It wasn't the threat on Ashley's life – who she had gone to for comfort and whose only words had been of reproach. If she allowed herself to be honest, Scarlett wasn't even sure why she cried.

But cried she did, sobs wrecking her small frame.

For a moment, Rhett stared at his wife, believing her tears to be as fake as that piece of hair she seemed so fond of wearing. His gaze was indifferent. Fat tears were marring her pale skin, though, and the sobs were so strong, her body could scarcely stand on its own. Doubt crept in.

_Could her tears be real?_

He hadn`t expected that to be possible.

A hand tucked a strand of silky hair behind her delicate ear and his grip turned from harsh to comforting. The moment almost reminded him of a night, standing with her in his arms, crying, as Atlanta fell all around them. Scarlett wasn't about to comply, though. She pounded onto his chest with anger, instead.

"This is all your fault! Why did you do this to me!"

Now, Rhett was no stranger to Scarlett's bursting temper and had, in fact, found amusement in it since the day they had met. He could, however, usually understand the reason for her temper flaring. This time, he remained bewildered.

_Did what?_

Her irate question was immediately followed by a half comprehensible rant, giving him no chance to ask her about his supposed crimes. Most of what she said failed to form into words he could discern, but Rhett heard enough.

_The mill and Ashley and being confused and wanting him to make her feel better. Old and not how she remembered and his words making her feel worse. Wanting to come home and Rhett and stupid drinking and…_

"And it`s all your fault, Rhett Butler!"

She was mad and blaming him for it and all he could do was laugh whole heartedly. His ears could scarcely believe her unplanned confession and the happiness that brought to his heart. With a cry of joy, he grabbed her around the waist and spun her around, merry as the day Bonnie was born.

"Have you gone mad? First talking about yourself like you were someone else completely, showing up at my room practically naked and now laughing at nothing! Have you heard any of what I sai…"

He kissed her, drowning her complaints and though she was surprised at his affection, Scarlett soon found herself too breathless to think, much less speak.

"Why haven`t you kissed me like that since that day in Pitty`s parlor?" she asked quietly, confusion making her brow furrow. Scarlett hadn't exactly meant to say that out loud.

She was rewarded by another deep and knee bending kiss. "An unforgivable mistake, my dear. I shall strive to prevent it from happening again."

When he tried to steal another kiss, she pulled back, hands on his chest. "You mean you won`t kiss me like that again? Why?"

"I meant quite the contrary, my little minx. I won`t ever go a day without kissing you like that again."

And Rhett proceeded to make exactly that, easily taking her breath away. Scarlett could hardly keep track of each swirl of his warm tongue against hers. Or the way his lips molded so perfectly upon hers. Desperate to make it last forever, she pressed herself closer and kissed him back, exploring in a way she had never truly dared to before.

It wasn't enough, though.

Scarlett wanted to feel his skin beneath her hands, wanted to have her husband touch her the way he had the night before. And there were too many pieces of clothing on them both preventing her desire from coming true. She broke the kiss, not pulling back more than an inch.

"Rhett… please…" She lacked the proper words and the courage to say them, but her big, expressive eyes had always been far more eloquent then her short tempered mouth. Rhett had no trouble reading her now.

In the past, he might have been tempted to make her say the words, to make beg for that which he had already been so willing to give. But, gazing upon her hungry eyes, focused entirely upon him… how could a man so in love like him resist.

"My love…" Slowly and sensually, he traced a path of open mouthed kisses from her parted lips to her cheek, all the way to that delightful spot behind her ear, which made her sigh.

With hands infinitely gentle, he pulled the belt of her robe, making the fabric part and revealing her pearly nightgown. Never faltering in his exploration of her neck, Rhett lightly followed the silky fabric up, brushing against her covered breast, all the way to the back of her neck. He then proceeded to pull the robe away, until it pooled at her feet.

Encouraged, Scarlett tentatively tried to do the same to his open vest. Her hands were trembling though, and her small height made reaching for Rhett's broad shoulders a difficult task to achieve. His chuckle at her expense made her frown, temper rapidly flaring. She hit his shoulder and tried to leave his embrace. He held her fast, his mirth quickly giving way to such an intense stare, Scarlett lost her train of thought.

"Never leave, Scarlett… never." It wasn't an order, or a request. Yet the plea within the words made the breath catch in her throat. Suddenly, she didn't feel like distancing herself anymore.

Another passionate kiss and Rhett pulled her body to his, leaving her feet to almost dangle uselessly in the air. Clothes were smoothly removed, desperately tugged off and finally, still standing in a tight embraced, Scarlett felt, once more, the delicious feel of Rhett's bare skin pressed against her own.

Like she was a delicate flower, he carried her to the settee and placed her before him, completely uncovered. Strangely, it didn't occur to her to be ashamed of being so bare and exposed. Wonderfully, the only thought fleeting her mind, was that of impatience.

She wanted so much more.

Welcoming was the feeling Rhett got when he lay upon her warm and shivering body. Heaven was the certainty he achieved when her arms folded about him. Nothing could take away from the perfection of this moment.

Hands explored arms and chests. They caressed hips and legs, until the final moment, when Rhett could no longer hold back. With bodies aligned, he allowed her slender legs to circle his waist and plunged deep and fast into her. Gaps escaped them both, air too lacking for kissing, but need of proximity too great to distance their breaths, as he withdrew and plunged. Again and again. Time had no meaning. The past was left behind. There were only their bodies swaying back and forth as one. There was only their chests pressed, heartbeats in synchronized frenzy.

When, at last, they reached the epitome of their pleasure and their bodies shuddered in release, they did so together.

...

"Rhett?"

"Uhm?" Scarlett saw how his eyes remained closed, a happy smile gracing the corner of his lips. She almost abandoned the thought which had been plaguing her, but curiosity spoke louder. Hugging his chest and hiding her face in the nook of his bare shoulder, she mumbled a question:

"Why were you so drunk last night?"

He paused only briefly, before offering an answer. "I ran into Ashley"

Scarlett stiffened, her hand clutching his arm, as she expected him to turn cruel as he usually did when Ashley's name was mentioned. Still, she didn't want to let him go. His reaction, however, was completely different from the expected. Rhett gently turned and hugged her even closer.

"I was mad and lost track of how much I drank, which is quite uncommon for me, love." He chuckled and whispered something Scarlett couldn't quite understand and cared little about. All she knew, all she wanted was to remain in his arms, where she felt safe. It had been so long since that feeling had been within her grasp.

Contemplation was not her forte and Scarlett happily pushed such thoughts aside, content to think about it another day. Why waste time contemplating things when she could simply enjoy it, after all.

When Rhett shifter, she tightened her grip around him, softly pleading, "Don`t leave."

_Don`t leave me_, was what she had really meant and Rhett had heard it as loudly as if she had actually said it. It was a plea and a declaration all at once and he could not help but smile.

"I`m not going anywhere, ever again, my love. Promise."

_I love you_, he whispered in his mind, a bit afraid to say the words out loud, just yet.

"Good."

And though the word was not the love declaration he wanted to hear - nothing like the foolish one she had made to Ashley that day in the library -, Rhett felt content, because they felt like one stronger and more real than the one he had envied for so many years.

She loved him too.

It was only a matter of time before she realized it herself.

And he didn`t mind waiting. How could he when her ability to be so dense was one of the things which had endeared her to him in the first place.


End file.
